


Down By The Seaside

by QSoC



Series: Hills of Gold [1]
Category: Howl Series - Diana Wynne Jones, Howl's Moving Castle - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-23
Updated: 2017-11-23
Packaged: 2019-02-05 22:44:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12803982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QSoC/pseuds/QSoC
Summary: Magic has to start somewhere.





	Down By The Seaside

It was the third time she'd seen the symbols.

Actually, that was a lie. Sophie had lost count of the real number of times she'd seen them, stark black against pale skin. A sheath of wheat in a circle, three interlocking rings, a funny-looking flower with pointed petals, and the word 'Zoso' written in a curling script, the 'o's dotted like eyes. She could have drawn them from memory, if she'd wanted, the amount of times she'd run her fingers over their ink as they dipped, rising and falling along a line of ribs. She'd asked about them once, was brushed off with a tinkling laugh. "Nothing, cariad. A good luck charm. A reminder." She figured they were part of a spell.

* * *

 

The second time would have happened sooner or later. Regardless of what was said afterwards, she most definitely was not snooping. She was cleaning, and figured a little tidying of his old desk in the bedroom wouldn't do any harm. It was ridiculous, anyway, that she was expected to live here - to share the same space, the same bed, the same last name - and still not be able to tidy up properly. She would just organise some of the stacks of paper, straighten the ornaments, wipe away the carpet of dust. It's not like she was going to throw anything away, she told herself, as she determinedly didn't read any of the tightly scrawled text. Not Snooping. She almost didn't recognise them as out of place, so used to seeing them each morning as she was. Suddenly, across the top of a page, four symbols in a row. Zoso, flower, rings, wheat.

"It must be the spell," she thought, slipping the sheet back into its pile. "There's a lots of funny symbols in spells. There's no reason these should be any different." She was a little surprised, though, to find it on a loose piece of note paper so carelessly filed away rather than in some big tome of magic like most other spells.

To be fair, he realised that something was bothering her over dinner, but Sophie was careful not to admit to her definite not-snooping earlier that day. She thought he guessed, though, that night as she ran her hands over the tattoo, newly-tidied desk in the corner. "Zoso," she murmured, before he rolled his eyes and pulled her under.

* * *

 

The third time was different, though. This wasn't a quiet morning on warm bedsheets, or another piece of discarded magic. This was at beach, in Wales.

They'd come, at his insistence, saying that they deserved a holiday.

"A proper one," he'd sang, one quiet Tuesday evening after a stressful day of kings and requests. "With ice-cream and sand, and sand in the ice-cream!"

Sophie wasn't quite sure what ice-cream was, but she was pretty confident sand wouldn't have made it more appealing. She also didn't know why they had to go to Wales to go to the beach - they had beaches in Ingary, just down the coast from Porthaven. She had been there once, the summer before her father died, Lettie, Martha, and herself paddling in the rock pools and soaking up the sun. Sand had got in the sandwiches then, too. Sophie definitely couldn't see how sand would improve ice-cream.

Still, they'd come, stopping off at Megan's front door to invite Mari and Neil. Megan seemed pleased to get them out of the house, something about half-term and never-ending. Mari had shrieked with excitement and hung off his legs, Neil had grinned and asked if they could get ice-cream.

"This ice-cream had better be worth it," Sophie huffed, as they piled into the metal box and went speeding down the road. It was hotter in Wales, and more-so in the car, the heat radiating off the black stone roads and sinking into the metal. They rolled down the windows, stuck their hands into the breeze as their hair whipped around their faces. In the backseat, Neil was listing all the things they needed to do;

"I want to go to the arcades. But that can wait, it's better in there in the cool after you've got too hot on the beach. Mari, we need to make sure we have a sandcastle competition, I'm pretty sure we could win this time. I wonder if we will find any crabs? I want chips for lunch too, and then custard doughnuts. But that doesn't mean we can't get ice-cream, ice-cream doesn't count as food. I want the biggest one they can make, with LOADS of strawberry sauce."

"And a flake!" piped up Mari. From the front, Sophie glanced across to her right. Despite all the excitement, he remained silent, smiling softly as his hair flew in a halo of flaxen strands and the sun glinted off the dark, gold-rimmed glasses that he'd pulled out of a cupboard in front of Sophie's seat. She couldn't see his eyes, but he reached over to take her hand, squeezed it before returning it to the wheel.

* * *

 

They had almost finished the list. Neil was in the arcade with Mari and a bag of copper-coloured coins, while they strolled hand-in-hand along the seafront. The air had cooled, but the paved ground still gave off heat, and the sand and salt in the air made her sun-sensitive skin prickle. Sophie had turned down the offer of a third ice-cream, but still she accepted the occasional taste for pure simple relief. Full, and warm, and happy, all she wanted now was to curl up, to sleep off the sun. She was daydreaming of just that, soft pillows and skin, when she saw them.

"Howl, that girl is wearing your symbols."

"Hm?" came the reply.

Sophie pointed, as subtly as she could manage in her confusion, at the girl leaning against the tide wall. She was about the same age Sophie, but with long dark chestnut hair scooped back up in a half-bothered bun. She had the same dark glasses that Howl had been wearing all day, and some trousers that seemed to have been torn off high up the thigh, hugging her waist where the incriminating shirt was tucked in. Sophie was used to the strange fashions of Wales (she herself was wearing a white pleated skirt to her calves and shirt that wasn't too bad) but the short-trousers meant there was far more leg on show than not. But it was the shirt that concerned her the most. Faded black, with no sleeves, and there in the centre across the girl's chest - the symbols, drawn out in white.

"What-? Oh. Oh..." he stopped in the middle of the path, ice-cream forgotten. The frown softened, melted into a lop-sided smile that soon turned into a grin that was all teeth and sparkling eyes. And then he laughed. A breathless chuckle at first, but soon a full-blown laugh that came from deep inside, and went on and on and on. "Oh Sophie, do they really bother you that much?" He asked, trying admirably to hold in a giggle but failing spectacularly.

Sophie huffed, annoyed at his dismissal once again.

"Well what do you expect? You hardly have a good history with personal spells! Who is she, is she a witch? How come she's in Wales?" It had been months, but she was thinking of Miss Angorian and the Witch's plan. "We shouldn't have left Neil and Mari, what if something's happened!" Howl was still laughing.

"Oh my God. This is- oh ok, it was going to happen at some point. Alright. Come on, Nose, I'll explain, but we'll need to go back to Megan's."

He laughed all the way back, chuckles that cut through the silence. Sophie sat cross-armed in the front, not-sulking, while Neil and Mari had chattered excitedly for about half an hour before drifting off to sleep. They woke at the handbrake, and Howl turned around.

"Neil, where did your mum put my records?"

"In the loft, I think," he said groggily, stretching his back, "she said they might actually be worth something one day."

"Damn right they will," Howl muttered, jumping out of the car and into the house while the rest of them trailed along sleepily. Neil and Mari disappeared into the kitchen, while Sophie hung about awkwardly in the hall. She always felt odd at Megan's house, despite how relaxed Howl was and how often Megan insisted she was welcome. She still wasn't sure Megan liked her. She'd told Sophie once, whispered in the kitchen making tea, that she was a good influence on Howl, he seemed far more settled... but she still couldn't understand how Sophie could put up with all the faults that remained.

"They're not faults," Sophie murmured in the silence, "they're just... Howl. And I don't tolerate them, he knows I don't approve either." She thought about the battle for the bathroom. Yes Howl's appearance was important to him, but she knew that there were things more so. Her reverie was broken by a clattering down the stairs.

"Come on!" he cried, grabbing her hand and dragging her into the front room. "Sit there," propelling her across to the sofa. He was holding a grey cardboard square, with a picture of an old farmer one one side. On a shelf by the magic picture box was another machine, off of which Howl lifted a clear cover and flicked some switches. Something in the air hummed.

"This," he announced, pulling pinky-orange sleeve of paper covered in scrawling text from inside of the grey square, "is Led Zeppelin Four, the Fourth Album, the Hermit, whatever you want to call it, but most importantly for you," he flipped over the paper, "Four Symbols." He grinned as he held it up, and there they were. Zoso, flower, rings, wheat.

"Your symbols! Is this the spell?" He laughed again,

"Not my symbols, not a spell!" She hadn't seen this level of excitement for a long while, he was practically buzzing with energy. "There are four members in the band, well, plus Sandy, in this case, and each symbol stands for one of them. They picked them instead of using their names." Nothing made sense. Sophie knew sometimes symbols were used as a substitute for the self, but she didn't understand what a zeppelin was and what was important about the number four.

"I don't understand... are they wizards? If it's not a spell, what is it?"

"No no, they're not wizards... well, mostly anyway. You can never be sure with Page. No, they're musicians, and together as a group they called themselves Led Zeppelin - no, don't ask why!" He blurted, sensing Sophie's intake of breath, "It's not important, not now anyway, although it is a funny story...now shh! Listen!" Sophie didn't point out that it was Howl that was doing most of the talking. As he spoke, he'd opened the sleeve of orange paper and pulled out a shiny black disk with a hole in the middle, which he now lined up with a rod in the middle of the machine. As he reached to swing around a moveable arm, he paused.

"Hmm... Maybe not the best introduction..." he murmured, moving the arm to a point far closer to the middle. Another switch was flicked, and a there was a crackle before guitar strings filled the air.

"What-?"

"Shh!" he flapped, throwing himself down on the sofa beside her, slouching down and closing his eyes. What sounded like a pipe had joined the strings, in a lilting melody that rose and fell, paused and tripped, repeated and grew. Sophie listened, unsure where it was coming from but increasingly unconvinced magic wasn't involved. Listening, she was overwhelmed by the sudden memory of laying in the sunny meadow of flowers by the waste. If she wasn't sat in Megan's front room in Wales she would have been sure she could feel the cool breeze on her skin, smell the wildflowers and trodden grass. A man's voice had joined the guitar and the pipes, following the same tune and singing about-

"Howl, is he singing about shopping?"

"What?" he glanced over, "What, Sophie no, it's...just listen, don't think too hard... it's not spell or a puzzle, just enjoy it!" The guitar changed, became louder and more echoey, and Sophie saw Howl's fingers begin to twitch, silently singing along with the words.

 _There's a feeling I get when I look to the west, and my spirit is crying for leaving..._  

The words changed, somehow, became a lot more familiar to Sophie who was used to songs of forests and fairs from the players that would gather in Market Chipping on holidays. Howl was still smiling, more so now, and his face cracked into a grin as Mari came running in.

"Uncle Howl this is my favourite!" she cried jumping onto his lap and into his arms "Mum never let's us play it any more!"

"Now that is a scandal, cariad! What, is she scared you'll run off and join the fairies? I'd never believe it!" Mari laughed, but Sophie frowned. Things were becoming clearer, even if none of her questions had been answered. Drums appeared, and Howl stood up, began singing to his niece in time to the music, dancing while her legs swung at his sides.

_...dear lady can you hear the wind blow, and did you know - your stairway lies on the whispering wind..._

There was a pause, the guitar strummed, and Neil burst in and jumped on the chair next to Sophie.

"THIS IS THE BEST BIT!" he screamed, while Sophie reached out to steady him and Howl laughed and shouted, pointing at him from across the room-

"Are you ready? Let's see this, it better be good!"

There was a wail, and Sophie startled, looked around, unsure if it was coming from Neil, the music, or both - only to find Howl spinning, Mari screeching with laughter, and Neil slamming enthusiastically on an imaginary guitar, climbing over the chair back and arms and singing along with the new sounds as loudly as he could. Watching the three of them, dancing, screaming, wailing, Sophie couldn't help but laugh - it was infectious, their fun, their silliness, a different kind of magic and a new kind of spell that she couldn't help but be drawn into. Suddenly they were all singing - screaming - along with with the voice;

_And as we wind on down the road! Our shadows taller than our souls!_

She wanted to join in, if she could, but she didn't know the words, the tune, what came next...the music slowed, Howl told them to get ready, Neil fell to the floor and Mari threw her hands in the air from her perch on Howl's shoulders. The three of them, in time and with heads thrown back, chorused-

"And sheee's buuuu-uuuu-uuuying a staaiirway... to heaven..."

It quietened, Sophie grinned, and from the doorway came a slow clapping. They turned to find Megan leaning against the wall, smiling softly at the scene before her.

"Very good, even if you are out of practice. Before you know it, Neil, you'll be asking for a guitar for Christmas like your uncle."

"Ok ok, don't start." Howl muttered, getting up from his knees where he'd fallen at the finale. "So I may never be able to charm crowds with gently plucked strings and heartwrenching solos, but I owe more to Plant, Page, Bonham, and Jones than you could dream of."

"Hmm," sighed Megan, eyebrow raised, "are you including that hairstyle in that assessment?"

"Look, I don't have to visit you know! I'm a busy man!" he snapped, but he was smiling. "Here I am, educating your children in the most important musical developments of the 20th century and this is the thanks I get? I can take my extensive knowledge elsewhere you know!"

"Mmhm, ok sweetheart. Sophie, are you staying for dinner? Gareth will be home soon, and you deserve a rest after a day with my two - and the last 8 minutes of my brother..."

"That's not fair, we're married-!"

"Doesn't mean she has to like your horrible music-"

"MUM what is for dinner?"

"YOU like my horrible music! It's classic-"

Sophie stayed sat on the sofa while everyone slowly moved into the kitchen, thinking. The machine in the corner crackled and clicked, before falling into a silence that now felt empty, heavy. She supposed she understood, in a way. It wasn't a spell, not the kind that she was familiar with anyway, but it still held power. A good luck charm, he called it. A reminder.

Magic has to start somewhere.

**Author's Note:**

> Howl was a philosophy student in the 1970s and you're trying to tell me he DIDN'T spend that time getting wasted listening to classic rock. Please refer to my fully referenced tumblr essay for more info: http://contradictionaddiction.tumblr.com/post/155861480286/ok-so-about-this-time-last-week-i-saw-this
> 
> Title is from a song by, uh, Led Zeppelin.


End file.
